


Stickership Ownership

by keepleaves



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comedy, Crack Fic, Established Relationship, M/M, Post Pacifist Ending, Prank War, also crudely drawn dicks, but there's no actual smut, domestic life, every day life, if a shitpost could be a full fanfic it would be this one, one chapter is mostly text message conversations, rating for language and post sex scene, there's so many pictures!, this could be an illustrated children's book!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 01:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20462765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepleaves/pseuds/keepleaves
Summary: Androids are beginning to find their sense of self, and Connor is no different. Though he can't lick things to claim them as his own, he opts to use stickers instead. Hank doesn't agree. Connor annoys him. The retaliations mount.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I teamed up with sloormp (@sloormp on Twitter/Instagram/Tumblr) to write this piece as part of the Hankcon Reverse Big Bang. She produced the art first, and I wrote this fic based off it. CHECK OUT HER STUFF SHE'S THE BEST OK. You will not be disappointed! Also many, many other talented artist and writer combos participated in the Hankcon Reverse Big Bang, so please take some time to look at all the other works at https://hankconrbb.wordpress.com/ & follow #HCRBB on Twitter/Instagram/Tumblr!

"What," Hank asked, peering over Connor's shoulder, "the fuck are you doing?"

Connor glanced up from his notebook, and Hank could see that he had a sheet of paper with some sketches on it.

"Ah—" Connor's first instinct was to cover up his drawings. He wasn’t Markus, after all; he hadn’t studied an artist for years. He could have easily downloaded a program to help with artistic renderings, but this was something he wanted to try for himself. It was Connor's way of taking ownership of things, so to speak. 

"Someone has been breaking into the DPD android storage area," Connor explained, "And stealing Cyberlife’s—my things." Ownership. He placed his pencil down, and his processors hummed in contemplation. It was one of those concepts that he had a hard time really understanding. He understood it in theory, but in actual practice, it was difficult to grasp. He remembered their first conversation about it, where Hank had done his best to put it into terms that Connor would understand. 

_ "You can own stuff," Hank had explained. "You know… It's yours. And nobody else's. Like your clothes." _

_ "My clothes technically belong to Cyberlife," Connor had pointed out. The logo on his back was another uncomfortable reminder that he wasn't quite human just yet. _

_ "Yeah, but Cyberlife is on shutdown until further notice. As far as we're concerned, right now they don't exist.” Hank had shifted on the couch, visibly grimacing at the mention of the company. “Pretend for a sec that it just disappeared overnight. So the next person in line to own your clothes is you. And technically, you own yourself now." Hank had raised his cup in a slight 'cheers' motion towards Connor. "So that's what ownership is. It's yours to do whatever you want with it." _

The idea had been…freeing. It was something that Connor had never considered before the revolution. It seemed like such a small, inconsequential thing, but it was one of those things that had made all the difference.

"Hm." Hank took his usual seat on the couch, nudging Connor's arm to get a better look at the sketch. "You ask around at the station?"

"Yes, I did," Connor said, and the graphite of the pencil smeared across the drawings as he moved his hand away to allow Hank a peek. "According to the checkout desk, I was the one who took them out. But obviously, I don't have any memory of this, and I don't have the components with me, so I don't understand what could have happened to them."

"Huh. That's odd." Hank shook his head. "Do you want me to talk with 'em? Did you talk to the security team yet?"

"Security is being otherwise…unhelpful. So I've taken it upon myself to label my things that I have at the DPD." 

Hank was already familiar with what Connor was talking about. They had a shipment of replaceable parts in the garage for Connor. While those parts were for minor repairs and emergencies, the parts at the DPD were for work related accidents. Hank covered up his shudder by reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. He didn't like it, but the reality of the situation was that Connor was a lot more sturdy than he was, and Connor also refused to stop taking bullets and damage to keep him safe. Connor hadn't used any of the spare parts yet, and Hank was intent on keeping it that way. Still, theft? Who would steal Connor's parts? 

"Did Richie take your stuff by accident?" The new RK900 unit had chosen the name ‘Richard’ for himself, but Richard was fond of nicknames. While Hank wanted to honor the pride that the RK900 unit had in being an android, he couldn't bring himself to call him just Nines. He had to get all the information before he could reach the same conclusion as Connor. 

"Nope. Nines said he had some of his parts taken, too.” As always, Connor used the nickname he'd given the RK900 unit rather than the name Richard had chosen for himself. “I checked in his storage unit to confirm. He also has no memory of checking any of his parts out. He hasn't sustained any damage from any cases, either." Connor frowned. "We don’t really have the time or the resources to do a stakeout, so I thought the best course of action would be to tag my stuff with a symbol or image. That way, if we see another android walking around with my face on its arm, or leg, or whatever other part, we can confront them."

"Alright, seems like a solid plan." Hank gently took the notebook from Connor. "Let's see what you got."

"This one—" Connor indicated at the topmost one, "—was the first one I thought of."

Hank looked it over carefully. "This looks familiar. Like a logo for a candy company or some shit."

"That's where I got the idea for it, yes." Connor's lips stretched into a small smile. "This next one," he continued, "I came up while I was watching TV. Robot and android mean two different things, and I thought if I combined them, it would be insulting enough that another android would back off."

"It doesn't exactly scream 'Connor Anderson' to me, though," Hank said, frowning. "You look like a box alien had sex with Princess Leia." 

Connor's LED spun yellow as he ran a search, and Hank threw his head back and laughed while Connor processed the obvious results. 

“Sorry, I'm used to Star Wars being a normal thing. Anyway, what's this one?" Hank tapped the page, and Connor furrowed his brow even more, trying to remember.

"That's the one I tried to do semi-seriously," Connor explained. "Not too threatening, but recognizable enough to be me."

"It's a little…cutesy, but yes, it is very much you," Hank agreed.

"But if you don't like things that don't look like me, I'm guessing you don't like this one," Connor continued, circling the next one on the page. 

"Yeah, not enough like you. Just looks like a bumper sticker."

"What about this?" Connor took the notepad from him with an enthusiasm that made Hank smile, but it quickly disappeared when he saw what Connor had drawn.

"The fuck, Con!" Hank shook his head. "No. That's the wrong kind of vibe you want to give out. It's still very you—cute, but it can murder you—but no!"

"Fine, fine," Connor took the notebook back, flipping to another page. "How about this—?"

"No," Hank cut him off before he even had a chance to finish his sentence. "Why the fuck would you do that? If you wanted to keep me away from your parts, then yeah, use that one."

"I thought you’d say that." Connor grinned over at Hank. "Okay, what about this?"

"Huh." Hank took a moment to think it over before shaking his head. "It's cute, still. But I don't like it.That's the mental image I have of you when I'm doing something I know you won't like."

Connor fell silent at that, struggling to keep his face neutral. "So, what you're saying is that this one makes you mildly uncomfortable?"

"Yup."

"Good to know," Connor said, turning back to his notebook, and Hank had a very bad feeling it was the start of something evil.

He was, of course, right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any thoughts, comments, mistakes that you caught are completely appreciated. Find me at keepleaves.tumblr.com or @keepleavesp2 on Twitter if you want to chat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the pop culture reference, part 1!

As always, Hank woke up to Connor kissing him awake.

"Time to get up, Hank," Connor whispered into his ear, and Hank grumbled and rolled over to check the time.

"You let me sleep in today?"

"Just for a few minutes. I had some things to take care of. Though we should hurry so we're not late." Connor gave him a final kiss on the temple before getting out of bed.

Hank's habits had been getting better. They hadn't completely disappeared, but with Connor's gentle nudging he was eating better, drinking less, and waking up at a more reasonable time. It wasn't against his will. He'd wanted to be better for Connor. But good habits take seven weeks to form, and Hank had taken…much more than that. He still wasn't used to it, if he were completely honest.

Hank walked stiff-legged into the bathroom, groping around for the lights and blinking as they turned on. He still wasn't quite paying attention as he lifted up the lid for the toilet seat, though the odd texture caught his attention. It was smoother than it should be and Hank let out a small yelp of surprise when he saw what Connor had been up to that morning.

  
A sticker. On the bottom side of the toilet lid where Connor knew he would have to see it in the morning. Goddamn him. It was that stupid design that he knew Connor carried inward whenever Hank did something he disapproved of. He supposed he should be happy that Connor didn't pick the pigeon, but it's something he didn't want to be grateful for. A quick glance around the rest of the bathroom showed a sticker on the mirror, over one of the self-deprecating notes Hank had left himself on a particularly bad day. Hank moved to wash his hands in the sink, but the open medicine cabinet caught his eye. He didn't have to look know what Connor did on the backside of the door, and Hank emerged into the kitchen, attempting to force his face into its usual expression.

"Something the matter, Hank?" Connor was looking at him, far more wide-eyed and innocent than usual.

Hank’s eyebrows flashed upwards. "Oh, no, just hit myself with cold water was all." He wouldn't let Connor know that he'd gotten him.

“I see.” Connor glanced at the fresh cup of coffee he had made for Hank, signaling for him to join him for breakfast. Hank wearily did, though his eyes darted around the room for more signs of Connor's disapproving face in sticker form. Nothing else seems out of the ordinary so far. If Connor did open any other drawers to hide stickers in, he was smart enough to close them. Or maybe that was all part of his plan. Hank wouldn’t put it past Connor to be at least five steps ahead of everyone else; maybe Connor had placed stickers on the inside of the dishwasher. No, that wouldn’t make sense. Neither of them used the dishwasher enough to warrant a sticker going in there. Hank himself hardly used anything in the kitchen; any cooking was mostly done by Connor at his own insistence. Hank was absorbed in his thoughts as he drank the rest of his coffee, hich was immediately sprayed back into his mug, all over Connor’s disapproving face placed neatly inside.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked him, folding his hands neatly on the table. His eyes were earnest, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying the neutrality he was trying to portray.

“Just peachy,” Hank coughed out.

This was war.

* * *

Connor was surprised to find the manila folder for Case #6642099 on his desk a few days later. It was submitted for approval for archival purposes weeks ago. It should have been cleared by now. 

"You have some corrections," Hank said as he gestured towards the file, and Connor frowned. Fowler had never given him any corrective comments on the documents he submitted before. He was programmed to fill them out and file them perfectly. He ran through his memory of the data transfer again—nothing came up that would be out of the ordinary or that would need correcting.  
"Did Captain Fowler say anything to you about what was wrong?" Connor asked as he sat down at his desk, glancing over Hank for an answer. Hank said nothing, only shrugging in response. Connor's frown deepened until he opened the file, and his eyebrows shot up as he saw the note that "Fowler" had made.

"Something the matter, Connor?" Connor didn't need to look up to see the twitching of Hank's moustache as he threw Connor's words back at him. "What did Fowler say?" There was a small waver in his voice, one that Connor wasn't sure he'd be able to pick up if he hadn't been working with Hank for the past year.

"No." Connor folded the folder closed, looking over at Hank and meeting his gaze dead on. "I'll speak with him later." If Hank wanted to play this game, he'd play. And he'd win. If Hank was hand writing his notes, then Connor had the upper hand. He had printed 250 stickers. And only 50 of those stickers were going on spare parts. Game on.

* * *

He had severely underestimated Hank.

Hank had obviously taken the challenge to heart. And he was quick about it, too. Connor glanced away to speak to someone addressing him, and one magically appeared on his terminal. Hank asked for a paper clip, and when Connor withdrew from the drawer, somehow there were three sticky notes stuck to the back of his hand. Some were blank. Most had drawings, and most were crude, and Connor was relieved to find them before anybody else did.

Naturally, there were phallic figures involved. A quick search told him that Hank had probably drawn one as a reference to a meme from as far back as 2006, though it seemed that he didn't quite remember the details. It was certainly lacking in artistic skills, but the spirit was very much there, as much as Connor hated to admit it.

  


"Memes are the lowest form of humor," Connor muttered as he trailed behind Hank, following him down the hallway to archive room so they could double check their labeling.. Connor refused to tell anybody at the precinct about their competition.

"Wrong," Hank said, though his voice was much louder. Connor scanned the hallway to make sure they were indeed alone. "A pun is the lowest form of humor."

"I beg to differ." Connor and Hank both fell silent as they reached the receptionist. Hank only shot him a cheeky grin as he slid the permit over the desk.

It seemed they had reached a truce for the time being. At least, until Connor opened a file Hank had been referencing. It was quickly snapped shut upon an initial scan.

"First of all," Connor hissed, crouching on the floor where Hank had been sitting, files spread out around him, "What if someone saw that?!" Hank shrugged in response as Connor continued, "And secondly, fuck me yourself, you absolute coward."

"Save it for when we get home, darlin'." Hank patted his knee and laughed at the expression on Connor's face, far too similar to the sticker for them to both simply drop the subject. Connor _ knew _Hank knew. And Hank knew that Connor knew that Hank knew. Their mutual understanding was the beginning of their mutual destruction.

* * *

Connor looked up from his keyboard, distracted by the sound of plastic smacking glass. "Hank?"

"Fuckin' mouse isn't working," Hank muttered to nobody in particular, and Connor leaned over the desk, still content to just observe Hank slamming his mouse onto his desk.

"Did you try turning it off and on again?"

"Yes, I tried turning it on and off again, don't give me that look—" Hank shot him an annoyed glance before going back to glaring at his mouse. "Unplugged it and everything too. Turned off my computer, took the mouse out, plugged in a different mouse to make sure it wasn't just my computer, and it's my mouse." Connor was staying suspiciously quiet. By now, he should have offered help, or got up and looked at it himself, and Hank's head snapped up. "What the fuck did you do to it?"

"Me?" Connor's mouth formed a perfectly shaped 'o' in an Oscar worthy performance of surprise and hurt. "Why would you think I did it?" 

"Because you— Never mind." Hank didn't want to get into it at the moment. He was in a hurry to submit a report before Jeffrey came for his ass. "C'mon, just tell me."

A hint of something flickered over Connor's face before he spoke. "I didn't do anything, Lieutenant. But perhaps you are old enough to remember when mice had rollerballs… Maybe your roller needs to be cleaned of lint."

Hank squinted across their desks. "These mouses—mice—whatever, these things don't have rollerballs. You did something, didn’t you? I know you did something." Hank flipped his over mouse with a sigh. Plastered over the backside of his mouse, covering the laser sensor, was Connor's frowning face.

"Okay." Hank looked up at Connor, whose lips were pressed together in an ill-attempt to hide his smile. "Fess up. Where else is it?"

Connor's lips pressed into an even thinner line as Hank booted up the rest of his computer, and his projected keyboard rearranged itself into a picture of Connor's face.

"Goddammit, Connor!"

* * *

It took a few days, but it seemed as though Hank's revenge had come out in full force in retaliation from Connor essentially reprogramming his terminal. He'd upped the count of the sticky notes threefold. They were also far bolder than they should have been, even if they were less explicit. His desk was fine, but Connor found his chair suspiciously high. As he reached for the lever to adjust his chair, he found a sticky note wrapped around it.

Connor blinked at the note and looked up at Hank, who was too busy to notice where his gaze had landed. His discovery had gone unnoticed, and Connor was going to keep it that way. His first task came into view on his HUD, was to find the rest of the sticky notes and remove them so that nobody else could see them. He stood up so abruptly his chair slid several feet back, and then he made a beeline for the front of the station.

He stood at the entrance doors, carefully doing a sweep of the lobby for any blue paper sticking out from anywhere. He could see nothing so far, and even his cursory peek in between magazines provided nothing. There were no notes physically placed in the room. Though…during Connor's investigation of the room, he'd noticed the ST300 android—that the station opted to hire properly—glancing his way. Jacqueline, he remembered. It wouldn't surprise him if Hank expected him to go looking for notes and to ask around. With a resigned sigh, Connor strode up to the counter, returning the smile that Jacqueline gave to him as he approached.

"Good afternoon, Detective Anderson."

"Good afternoon," he returned back, smiling at his title. "Did Lieutenant Anderson leave you anything for me?"

"As a matter of fact, he did," she said, immediately flipping through her file organizer on her desk. "I asked him why he couldn't directly give it to you, and he said it was a surprise." To no surprise at all, she slid over a folded sticky note to Connor and he rushed to open it.

"Okay," said Connor, folding the note and jamming it into his pocket. "Thank you." Jacqueline waved at him as he walked away. His eyebrows knit together. Curse his own predictability.

If he were right, there would be none left in the lobby. He stalked back inside, dead set on finding the rest of them. He'd have to do a thorough scouring, starting with the perimeter. The android stations were still there, though it wasn't mandatory for the police androids to stay confined to their booths when not in use. Most of them used it as a break area to, literally, recharge. Connor had chosen booth #5, a reminder of the date that he and Hank had first met. Sure enough, there was a bright blue paper stuck to the inside of the door, and Connor had to step inside to reach for it.

"Hmph." He was annoyed that Hank hadn't come up with anything better to write on the sticky note. The innuendo about entering tubes was _ right _there and Hank chosen not to take it. He was annoyed that that was annoying him, rather than the fact that he had to go on this half-assed scavenger hunt. Still, the half-assed scavenger hunt had to wait. He couldn't be missing from his desk this early in the morning, and he did have a lot of paperwork to do. 

Connor returned to his desk, still keeping his eyes peeled for any trace of blue poking out from anything. Though as he sat down to connect to his terminal, he found it unresponsive. "Huh."

"What's up?" Hank only glanced up from his desk.

"My terminal isn't working."

"Oh." Hank grinned over the glass partition that separated their desk. "Did you try turning it off and on again?" He only laughed at the dirty look Connor gave him.

"I'd turn it off if I could turn it on. I can't run a diagnostic if it won't boot up at all."

"Did you check to make sure it was plugged in?"

"Are you just reading off the IT troubleshooting spiel?"

"Yup."

"Hank, don't be so— Fine, I'll check." Connor threw himself back away from his desk and walked to the wall connecting their terminal, kneeling down and reaching in between the small opening to feel for the plug. He only sighed when he felt the dry paper clinging to his fingers, and he withdrew his hand to look at the note.

Well, at least that one was hidden away from the public eye. He crumpled it up and threw it over on Hank's side of the desk, where he heard Hank let out a low chuckle and said, "I caught that, you know." Connor said nothing, reaching for the cool metal of the prongs to plug his computer in. Mercifully, he automatically connected to his computer as it was turned on again, and he let out a sigh, lips twisted in annoyance as he sat down. But on his screen, prominently displayed, was another note.

Hank threw back his head and laughed as Connor fell back in his seat in defeat.

There were no more notes for the rest of the day. None that he could find, anyway, and Connor was sure they would turn up another day. 

Though he did get a shock as they worked together in the archive room. "Hank, your login isn't working." Connor pulled his white hand away from the screen. "Did you change your password? FUCKINGPASSWORD isn't working."

"Uh, yeah, I did." Hank didn't look up from the evidence bag he was poring over, and though Connor couldn't see his face, he could hear the smile in his voice. "Tell you what, try and guess what I changed it to."

"Hank," Connor said, exasperated, but nonetheless, he tried.

_ L00tAnderson _

_ Chickenfeedcombo#7 _

_ SUSANISABITCH _

His usual passwords weren't working...though Connor had a feeling he knew what the new password was. He entered it in quickly, and the dismay permeated through his voice as he called out to Hank. "Was it really necessary to change the password to 'FuckmeyourselfConnor?'"

"Yup."

* * *

Hank grumbled, practically foaming at the mouth. His unspent energy was being directed inwards, and he sat pounding at his desk more heavily than usual. "Fuckin' Jeffrey making me miss my shit, it's gonna be the event of the century…"

Connor took his normal seat on Hank's desk. "I'm finished."

"Good for fuckin' you."

"…Are you still upset that Captain Fowler gave you overtime tonight to finish your paperwork? I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but if you had recorded the Gears game like I told you to, it wouldn’t have been a problem.”

"No, Connor, I'm upset because you made me eat a salad today for lunch." Connor looked mildly offended until Hank rolled his eyes at him. "_ Yes, _ Connor, it's because Jeff is making me miss the game. It's the finals! Do you know how important it is? The Gears haven't made it to the finals since before I was married! Playoffs are one thing, but finals? Shit. And they're up 84 to 62! There's no way this is going into overtime, so I can't even watch after I'm done." Hank couldn't see the TV in the break room from his desk, either, so he was stuck with a live scoreboard on his computer, which was already lagging. This sucked. This sucked so bad.

Connor sighed and slid off his desk, motioning for Hank to move. "I'll do it."

"Wha?" Hank slid his chair away from his desk. "You serious?"

"It won't take long. It's just paperwork." Connor gave him a small smile. "And I was there for most of the cases. Or I can find out enough about them from the information database. I can fill out most of it, and you can sign off on it later."

"No, I'll do it," Hank cut him off quickly. "That's not fair, I should do my share. Android equality and partner equality, and all that. I don't want to leave you here alone."

"You're not leaving me alone," Connor supplied helpfully, "You'll just be watching in the break room. The game should be over in an hour, hour and a half. I'll take care of it."

Hank stood up from his desk with renewed gusto, and he leaned over to give Connor a kiss on his LED. "You're the best, Connor."

"Enjoy," Connor waved at him, and Hank rushed to the break room, unaware of the conniving smile that was developing on Connor's face.

~

"Gears win game 3!" Hank let out a hoot as he returned to his empty desk. Connor looked up from where he was sitting in stasis at his own desk. "We're gonna sweep those damn Gondoliers this year, mark my words!"

"Congratulations." Connor offered Hank the same confused smile someone who didn't appreciate basketball gave him, but Hank beamed nonetheless. Connor was trying, and it counted for something.

"So, whaddaya got for me?" Hank moved to sit at his desk as Connor spoke. 

"Just need you to initial off on some before we send them off for approval. I've left them open on your desktop."

"Great." Hank sat down, still smiling at the win. Oddly enough, Connor was still smiling as well, but Hank was too giddy comment on it. That was, until he turned his head to the right.

And now that Hank noticed it, he realized why Connor had volunteered to help fill out paperwork. His face was all over his desk. On the glass partition with the rest of his bumper stickers, most namely replacing where his anti-android stickers used to be. They were on the case of his handcuffs, on the brim of his Detroit Gears hat where the kids back in his day left the label on, every surface that wasn't going to be turned in to a superior had a sticker on it. Hank only looked over at Connor, who sat frozen, the smile still on his face.

"Haha, very funny," Hank said, and Connor shifted in his seat, his stupid smile only growing wider. He seemed quite pleased with himself. Hank had anticipated this (albeit, perhaps not to this extreme, but he did suspect something was going on when Connor offered to help) and had a plan already in place. 

"Ah, dammit, I left my keys in the break room," Hank carefully stood from his desk, making sure his phone was in plain view as he walked away. “Can you check my messages for me? I should have a text from Jeff about approving our overtime pay.”

“Of course.” As Connor reached for the phone, Hank did a quick lap around the break room and hurried back to his desk to see Connor’s reaction. 

“I don’t understand, ‘Wonnor?’” Connor’s smile flashed into something much tighter as he peeled it off, but it quickly returned to its goofy expression. Uh-oh. Barely a reaction. Something was up. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yeah. Jesus. Thanks so much for your help." Hank stood and stretched before linking Connor's arm with his as they walked out together. He did mean that sincerely. Even with the shenaniganry, it was hardly a price to pay for the assistance Connor could offer.

Connor gave his arm a squeeze as he headed to the passenger side, and Hank stopped dead as he saw why Connor had walked away so quickly. "Goddammit, Connor." There was a sticker, gently placed on the handle of his car so that Connor's face wasn't wrapped around the door handle. Hank peeled it off, slapping it onto Connor's elbow as he climbed into the car. 

"I don't suppose you have a retaliation for that?" Connor asked, settling into his seat. Christ, he thought he was so clever. Hank wished he had slapped the sticker on Connor's forehead instead.

"You're right, I don't."

"In that case, you might want to check your visor."

"Nope." Hank started the car, but Connor was quick to flip it down, revealing a sticker over the mirror cover.

Hank just looked at Connor, who avoided his gaze in favor of picking at the sticker on his jacket. "Fine. You win this round," Hank didn’t bother peeling off the sticker. It didn’t put a damper on his good mood, and he had nothing to hand Connor, either. He had to admit defeat for the night.

Connor only let out a satisfied laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any thoughts, comments, mistakes that you caught are completely appreciated. Find me at keepleaves.tumblr.com or @keepleavesp2 on Twitter if you want to chat.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hank?" Connor emerged into the kitchen, surprised to see Hank at the table. To be fair, Hank was up, but he looked very, very tired.

"'Morning," mumbled Hank, who stood from the table.

"You're awake." Connor just stood and stared for a moment. "Why… How…?"

"Had to let Sumo out." Hank lumbered past him. "I'm surprised I didn't wake ya."

"I…yeah, me too." Connor blinked, watching him. "I'll get started on breakfast, then."

Hank waved a hand at him. "Gonna shower." He headed down the hall and disappeared into the bathroom.

Connor ran the reconstructions in his head as he moved about the kitchen. Hank usually woke up at 5:30. Connor set it so he came out of stasis before then. He didn’t need the stasis at all, honestly, but he liked the idea of falling asleep next to Hank every night. It felt like a routine. It was normal. Human. But it was 5:02 now, and Connor couldn't think of a reason for Hank to want to get up instead of going back to bed. He ran through his audio logs as he opened the fridge, though he had to abruptly pause them as the pieces fell into place.

  


Staring back at him from the open egg carton were a dozen of a mockery of his own face. There were streaky trails on some of the eggs from the marker not drying, Connor assumed. He reached out to touch one and realized that the tufts of hair felt very far too similar to Sumo's fur for it to be anything else. Further analysis showed him that he was correct. And since Hank had woken up earlier, Connor didn't have any plans for payback—though, staring into the fridge did give him an idea. Hank's showers were 15 minutes on average. He had time. Before he shut the door, he pulled out two eggs, determined not to show how impressed he was against his will. Connor winced as he cracked the first egg into the pan, watching his face split in half where one of his eyes was drawn. He cracked the next one neatly from the top to preserve his face. The first eggshell went into the trash, and the second one almost left his hand before he was struck with a brilliant thought. He only had about 10 seconds left before Hank would come out, so he would have to move quickly.

Hank's wet hair left patches on the shoulders of his shirt, and Connor studied the slight curl of damp strands with a fondness. He almost felt bad for what Hank was about to see. Almost. Hank sat and immediately reached for his coffee mug as Connor set the plate in front of him. Hank choked on his coffee as the sight of his own copy of Connor's face placed prominently in the center of his plate, right on top of the yolk.

"Hm." Hank stared down at his egg. Eggshell Connor stared back him. "Did you make fried eggs this morning and put your face in the middle because you're my sunshine?"

"I— no." Connor took his seat next to Hank. "What are you talking about?"

"Fried eggs. Sunny side up eggs? Sunshine eggs. You know?" Hank was met with a blank look. "I— never mind. Your prank just sucked." Hank scooped Connor's face off his eggs and placed it at the side of his plate, away from the edible portions. "You lost this one."

"Not my best," Connor admitted. "But the day has just begun. We'll see."

"Oh, Christ." Hank started his meal with a sigh. "I'm in for it later, aren't I?"

"We'll see." Connor just folded his hands into his lap. "We'll see."

~

"Lieutenant Anderson?" Hank looked up from his terminal, and his blue eyes met gray. He jumped slightly, though he tried to cover it up by adjusting in his seat. It was hard to get used to Connor's twin walking around, especially when the only difference in their appearance was in their eye color. Sometimes it was in what they wore, but it seemed the RK line had a penchant for black.

"Hey, Richie," Hank said, not nearly as eloquently.

"I need you to review the arrest records for this month before I submit them to Captain Fowler. Would you double check that the accounts are accurate for me?" Richard passed the open file onto Hank's desk, who held them up to his terminal to compare the numbers.

"Looks all right. Wish I could give you the authorization to just send it in. God knows you could calculate this stuff better than I could, even with a computer." Hank initialed the bottom and handed it back to Richard, who took it, though he avoided Hank's eyes. "You alright? Is someone giving you a hard time?" Hank sat up in his chair. "Is it Reed? I told you, I'll kick his ass into gear if you want."

"No. Ah…Lieutenant…" Richard blinked once, twice, lurching forward onto his desk. "I don't feel so good."

"What the fuck," Hank stood up, reaching out to grab Richard by the shoulder, turning around to yell over his shoulder. "Connor, get your ass over here! Connor!"

"Lieutenant." Hank turned around just in time to watch Richard open his mouth, backing up as papers began to shoot out at a velocity strong enough that it sent some of his pens ricocheting off his desk and onto the floor. One of the papers floated down onto Hank's shoe, and Hank jerked away before realizing that Richard was vomiting out Connor's sticker.

"What the fuck?!"

Richard straightened back up, almost comically robotic, and turned to face Hank. "Connor wanted me to tell you it was payback for this morning. Goodbye, Lieutenant." Richard skittered off to his desk, and Hank swore he saw Reed high fiving him behind his chair as he ran past. 

  
~   
  
"Connor," Connor looked up as Richard —or as he preferred, Nines— started, "We need to talk."

"Nines?" Connor pulled away from his terminal, letting the skin reform over his hand as he turned to face Nines. "What's the matter?"

Nines leaned forward, keeping his voice low as he spoke as to not be overheard. "I don't know if I'm comfortable with you using me in this odd posturing between you and Lieutenant Anderson."

"Oh, come on." Connor rolled his eyes, not bothering to keep his voice quiet. He didn’t care if Hank heard or not. He was bound to, even with Nines keeping his voice quiet. He was sitting right there, after all. "It was harmless. He didn't even have to clean up the stickers much, he just swept them into the trashcan. They weren't even stickers! I just printed them out on paper and cut them out. They won't get stuck anywhere—"

"But Lieutenant Anderson is my superior!" Nines said, with a surprising amount of force. "I am not supposed to make fun of him! Levity doesn't have any room in the workplace, especially within the police force!"

"Then why did you agree to it?" Connor, at least, had the grace to look remorseful. "You could have said no."

"I—" Nines cut himself off this time, grabbing Connor by the arm. "I… Oh."

"Nines?" Connor retracted the skin, trying to find a place to interface with Nines. "Nines, what's—?"

And Nines opened his mouth, a waterfall of sticky notes pooling on Connor's desk. Connor was in the middle of running through Cyberlife's troubleshooting manual before he realized what the garish rainbow on his desk was, and he swiped a sticky note as it fell out of Nines' mouth. Naturally, it was a crudely drawn penis.    
"Ha!" Hank's head popped over the partition as Nines delicately pulled the last sticky note out of his mouth. "You wanna weaponize Richie? Well, I can, too!"

"Sorry, Connor." Nines only grinned at the utterly betrayed look on Connor's face. "Goodbye." And he again skittered back to his desk, leaving Hank laughing at Connor struggling to pull the sticky notes apart.

~

"Gears game four, let's goooo." Hank fell onto the couch with a sigh, sliding into the dip that had been worn into the couch by his butt after years of use. "Connor, could you toss me a beer?"

"No." Connor shot Hank a look from the kitchen. "Literal small steps will still help your health, you know. Come get it yourself."

Hank rolled off reluctantly, complaining under his breath quietly enough so he knew Connor couldn't hear. 

"What was that, Hank?"

"Nothin’." Hank busied himself opening the fridge, though he was left as still as he was in the morning. Every single one of his beer bottles in the fridge had Connor's face on them. It was like his own personal brewery of disappointment. "Con."

"Hm?" Connor turned around, feigning innocence again.

""Small steps’ my ass!" Hank shook the bottle sticker-forward in Connor's direction, who only grinned at him. "You know what, just for that, I'm drinking two beers tonight."

"Hank." Connor deliberately arranged his face to match the sticker, and it was uncanny how similar it was.

"Nope, not that face. I have enough of that face right here in my hands. I know how to fix this." Hank set his beers down and swept Connor into his arms, leaning in to give him a kiss. True to his prediction, Connor's frown melted into a smile that Hank felt as he pressed their lips together.

"Fair?"

"All right, fair." Connor picked up one of the beers and handed it to Hank. "Only because you're losing and I feel sorry for you."

Hank looked down at the two beers in his hand before pulling the fridge door open and placing one of the beers back inside. “Fuck that shit. I’m not admitting to losing.”

“Oh.” Connor placed a gentle hand on Hank’s shoulder. “I’m touched that you’re ready to admit defeat so easily.”

Hank swatted his hand away. “Nah. Watch me. I’ll win this.” 

Connor pulled his hand away, and Hank looked down to see another sticker stuck on his shirt. “Where the fuck do you keep pulling those out from?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any thoughts, comments, mistakes that you caught are completely appreciated. Find me at keepleaves.tumblr.com or @keepleavesp2 on Twitter if you want to chat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna go ahead and add HTML to my resume after formatting this

Ben Collins  
  
**Hank:**can you help me w something?  
  
Ben  
**Ben:**depends, what u need?  
  
**Hank:**i'm trying to stick things on Connor's back  
  
**Hank:**don't ask  
  
Ben  
**Ben:**what do u need me to do?  
  
**Hank:**i'm trying to spell out something long on his back with sticky notes  
  
**Hank:**we can make it fun and play hangman, guess the word and i'll buy you a drink but if you guess the letter you have to go put it on his back  
  
**Hank:**got it?  
  
Ben  
**Ben:**deal  
  
**Hank:**_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
Ben  
**Ben:**what the hell  
  
**Hank:**pick a letter  
  
Ben  
**Ben:**A  
  
**Hank:**_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _  
  
**Hank:**3 as, so three sticky notes with as on Connor's back good luck spacing it out

* * *

"Connor!" Connor turned his head to see Detective Ben Collins approaching him with a friendly wave. "Congratulations on the solve with the Stiles case. I heard Major Crimes almost swooped in and stole it from you." Ben gave him several pats on the back, and Connor sat up straighter under the recognition.

"Thank you, Detective Collins." Odd. Ben never came by for casual conversation. Connor shrugged it off and kept working.

* * *

3 people  
  
Ben  
**Ben:**done im sure he felt it though  
  
Ben  
**Ben:**can i phone a friend?  
  
**Hank:**yeah sure  
  
Ben Collins added Chris Miller  
Chris  
**Chris:**?  
  
**Hank:** i'm trying to spell out something on Connor's back with sticky notes, guess the word and i'll buy you a drink  
  
Chris  
**Chris:**I'M IN  
  
**Hank:**_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _  
  
Chris  
**Ben:**Damn what the fuck that's a long ass word  
  
Chris  
**Ben:**Uh f  
  
**Hank:**_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _   
  
**Hank:**|  
  
**Hank:**you're up Ben  
  
Ben  
**Ben:**b  
  
**Hank:**_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _   
  
**Hank:**|_  
  
Chris  
**Chris:**wtf is that?  
  
**Hank:**I had to make the hangman sideways  
  
Chris  
**Chris:**Oh okay. My turn right? O?  
  
**Hank:**_ _ _ _ _ _ o _ _ _ _ _ _ a _ o _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _  
  
Chris  
**Chris:**So now what do I do?  
  
**Hank:**Stick the o's you guessed onto Connor's back. Space them out properly, Ben already put some As downt

* * *

"Oops," Chris said as he bumped into Connor's seat. Connor moved his chair in to make room for Chris to get by.

"Officer Miller, are you all right?"

"Yeah, sorry Connor. I was, uh, walking and texting. Wife needs help with the baby and all. Sorry." Chris gave him a casual wave and hurried away. Connor stared at him for a moment before returning his attention to his desk.

* * *

6 people  
  
**Hank:**fucking shit Chris could you be more obvious  
  
Chris  
**Chris:**Nah we good he didn't even think twice about it  
  
Chris  
**Chris:**Can I get someone else in on this?  
  
**Hank:**yeah  
  
Chris Miller added Robert Lewis  
**Hank:**Catch up for Bob: i'm trying to spell out something on Connor's back with sticky notes, guess the word and i'll buy you a drink  
  
**Hank:**_ _ _ _ _ _ o _ _ _ _ _ _ a _ o _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _   
  
**Hank:**|_  
  
Robert  
**Robert:**Got it. Z  
  
**Hank:**_ _ _ _ _ _ o _ _ _ _ _ _ a _ o _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _   
  
**Hank:**|-_  
  
Chris  
**Chris:**Why would you guess Z???  
  
**Hank:**Ben?  
  
Ben  
**Ben:**D  
  
**Hank:**_ _ _ _ _ _ o _ _ _ _ _ _ a _ o _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _   
  
**Hank:**|-_o  
  
Chris  
**Chris:**M  
  
**Hank:**_ _ _ _ _ _ o _ _ _ _ _ _ a _ o _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _   
  
**Hank:**|-_o-  
  
Chris  
**Chris:**what the fuck is that?  
  
**Hank:**I couldn't make the top part of the post so I just put the dash pretend it's there  
  
Chris Miller added Tina Chen  
**Hank:**i'm trying to spell out something on Connor's back with sticky notes, guess the word and i'll buy you a drink  
  
**Hank:** _ _ _ _ _ _ o _ _ _ _ _ _ a _ o _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _   
  
**Hank:** |-_o-  
  
Tina  
**Tina:**What letters were already guessed?  
  
**Hank:**AFBZDM  
  
Tina  
**Tina:**My turn then? E  
  
**Hank:**e _ e _ _ _ o e _ _ e _ _ a _ o _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _  
  
Chris  
**Chris:**FUCK YEAH TINA  
  
Robert  
**Robert:**Nice  
  
Ben  
**Ben:**GJ  
  
Tina  
**Tina:**You always start with vowels  
  
Tina  
**Tina:**Now what?  
  
**Hank:**Stick the E's you guessed onto Connor's back. Space them out properly around the other letters  
  
Tina  
**Tina:**k

* * *

"Detective Anderson?" Connor mentally sighed at yet another interruption, but much to his surprise, standing there with her hands folded neatly in front of her, was Officer Tina Chen.

"Hello, Officer Chen." Connor scanned his memory banks, trying to figure out what she needed. He hadn't worked a case with her recently.

"I hope you don't mind, but I overheard you talking about looking for recipes to make at home. I thought I could write down my recipe for rice porridge for you." Before Connor could say anything, she quickly took the seat next to him, and reached for his sticky notes.

"Oh, Officer Chen, I have larger sheets--"

"No, no, it's fine!" She said, beginning to scribble down the instructions in large block letters, and pretty soon, Connor's desk was covered in sticky notes. Connor noticed her deliberately turning her back so he couldn’t see what she was writing, and he swore he felt her accidentally-on-purpose touch his back a few times. He was in the middle of arranging them in order when she stood. "Let me know how it goes!" And with that, she was gone.

* * *

6 people  
  
Tina Chen added Gavin Reed  
**Hank:**why  
  
Gavin  
**Gavin:**I'm the smartest one here, show me the puzzle Tina already told me the details I'm game  
  
**Hank:**why do I feel like you're going to fuck this up?  
  
Gavin  
**Gavin:**Gimme the fucking word already  
  
**Hank:**e _ e _ _ _ o e _ _ e _ _ a _ o _ _ a _ _ _ _ a _ _ _  
  
**Hank:** |-_o-   
  
**Hank:**AFBZDM were already guessed  
  
Gavin  
**Gavin:**L  
  
**Hank:**fuck  
  
**Hank:** e l e _ _ _ o e _ _ e _ _ a l o _ _ a _ _ _ _ a l l _   
  
Gavin  
**Gavin:**I got this

* * *

"Hey, plas—Detective Anderson." Oh no. Connor swiveled in his chair slowly. He had been hoping his vocal identification had been wrong, but nope, there was Gavin, standing behind him. Connor didn't have to use any of his android features to see that the smile on his face was incredibly forced.

"…Detective Reed?" Connor stood, keeping his eyes trained on Gavin's incredibly creepy expression. "How can I help you?

"Heard about your solve on the Stiles case. Nice job." Gavin slowly held out a fist, and for a fleeting moment, Connor was convinced Gavin was going to punch him, but the fist stayed suspended, and Connor copied the motion as they fist bumped. This was too weird. His LED spun red as he struggled to find a reasonable explanation on why Gavin was being so nice. "I was going to ask…" The words looked like they were costing Gavin a lot, "If you could show me how you solved it?" He gestured at the terminal, and Connor tilted his head in confusion. He stole a glance at Hank, who was busy typing away on his phone.

"I… suppose…" Connor turned back to his monitor and began to bring up the case files. Gavin hovered over his shoulder, close enough so that he was touching Connor. "So..." It was no effort to pull the written report from his memory banks, and he recited them without much thought. Gavin nodded, only interrupting once to reach over and question something on the terminal.

"Well!" Gavin nodded as he finished his explanation. "That was informative! Thank you very much, Connor!" Gavin stuck his hand out, and Connor reached to shake it, only to find himself being pulled into a hug.

"Detective Reed?" Something was definitely wrong now. Gavin was being too nice. "What are you—did you just put something on my back?"

"No!" Gavin was too quick to defend himself for it to be the truth, and Connor pushed him off, twisting his arm around to sweep the back of his shirt. There was a fluttering noise, and he turned around to see multiple sticky notes, all in varying colors, falling to the floor. Simultaneously, there came yelling from all corners of the bullpen.

"Boo!"

"Oh, come on!"

"Dammit, Gavin!"

"Fuck you, I got us the farthest!" Gavin tried to yell, but his voice was drowned out by all the complaints directed where he was standing.

"Told ya he'd ruin it!" came Hank's voice, and Connor turned to stare at him.

"Wha—"

"Hangman," was all Hank said.

Connor stooped down to pick up the notes, realizing there were letters on them. "Wait. Is that why everyone was talking to me today?” He ran through his memories again, closing his eyes as the realization of what the goals of the past interactions was. “Okay. Well, what was the word?"

"Electroencephalographically."

"…Hank." Connor blinked at him as he fell back into his chair. "Did you just Google 'longest word in English' and choose the first one that came up?"

"Yup." Hank grinned across the desk. "Gotta maximize the number of sticky notes."

Connor's eyes narrowed into slits. "Yeah, maximize space. I can do that."

* * *

Sometimes, Connor made Hank feel like a teenager.

One of those times was now, while they were watching a movie, and somehow they ended up kissing. They, mercifully, had been let out of work early for their three day weekend break, and they were taking full advantage of their time together. Neither of them had had time to even change. Dinner wasn't started. They'd shirked their chores in favor of…well. Hank wasted no time pulling Connor on top of him, letting the android take charge. Connor sat up, chest heaving for breath he didn't need. "Bedroom?"

"Yup." Hank sat up as Connor slid off his lap, though Hank leaned over and lifted him off the couch with ease. Connor grinned, burying his face into Hank's neck, leaving small bites as Hank carried him down the hallway. It wasn't long before he was thrown on the bed, and Connor scrambled away as Hank flopped down onto the bed, only to straddle him again.

"Feisty tonight?" Hank teased, and Connor just smiled, reaching to undo the buttons of Hank's shirt. "Off. Now," growled Hank, trying to slip his hands into Connor's jacket to slide it off. 

"But Hank," Connor said, and oh no, he had that weird, innocent look on his face again. "Don't you want…an audience?" He threw open his jacket with flourish, and Hank almost screamed. There were rows and rows of angry Connors, neatly arranged on the silken lining. All staring at him and his bare chest with their judgmental eyes.

Hank took a pillow and swung it up into Connor's face, grumbling as he rolled off the bed, Connor's laughter echoing down the hallway.

* * *

It was 3:02AM when Connor felt Hank's hands on him again.

"Hank," Connor mumbled, feeling the warmth of Hank’s hand seep through his boxers as he began to grow hard. He didn't bother opening his eyes. "Hank, it's 3AM. Go to sleep." Though, privately, if Hank wanted to do something, Connor would never deny him, no matter what time it was.

"Just a sec."

Connor let out a low mewl of pleasure, lifting his hips into Hank's touch until the heat was abruptly pulled away, only to be replaced by something being wrapped around him. Something very, very dry and unpleasant. "What-" He reached down, his fingers finding paper.

"Had to pee and then I got an idea. Didn't get to have any fun tonight, so I thought I'd use it for something." Hank leaned over and placed a sloppy kiss, ignoring the incredulous look on his face. "G'night." With that, Hank rolled over and fell back asleep.   


"But…Hank…I don't drink water…."

* * *

Connor let out a sign of contentment as he curled up next to Hank. There was something so comforting in the heat radiating off of Hank's bare skin, something that seeped into his chassis, as bare as it could be. "Good?"

"Always is with you." Hank and him exchanged little smiles, still basking in the afterglow that seemed like it was never going to fade. It would eventually, they both knew, but for now, Connor was happy just to be close like this. "Oh, I got a present for you." Connor craned his neck to see, but before he could properly figure out what the item was, Hank smacked him on the forehead gently, and his vision was half blocked. Connor peeled it away from his face to look at it.

  
  


Oh. That's what Hank had meant by thirsty.

"You," Connor said, slapping the note on Hank's chest, who couldn't be bothered to remove it, "are such a mood killer!" Well, the magic was gone anyway, he might as well get up to clean his components. He sat up, and Hank half-followed. 

"Need any help?"

"No, just cleaning. It's okay." Connor slipped into the bathroom, removing the panel from his lower back to remove his storage unit to rinse it out. As he pulled it out, there was something weirdly tinted blue there. In a moment of panic, Connor pulled the hospital up on speed dial. If Hank's body fluids were blue, there was a problem. If it was his own thirium, he'd have to get a component replaced, and he doubted it was a part they had in the garage. He did swear loudly enough for Hank to hear him when he realized what the blue was.

Connor processed the note quickly, but it didn't occur to him what it actually meant until he thought about it a little longer. His detachable components had been a little pricey. Installing another storage unit, one that was dishwasher safe, had been even more expensive. He couldn't even think about the last one. They had agreed to never speak about the incident again. Connor lowered the sticky note in shock.

"You okay?" came Hank's voice from the bedroom.

"Uh, yeah, just fine!" Connor's voice came out a little higher than normal, and he knelt to open the cabinet where he'd hidden a roll of stickers.

* * *

The post-sex drowsiness was real, and Hank let himself succumb to it. Connor had said nothing as he returned to bed, and Hank fell asleep, holding him tightly. He only planned to nap for a little, and he awoke with the lights in their room still on, lying on his back, though Connor was rolled on his side. Weird. They were both side sleepers, normally. He must not have fallen asleep for that long. He reached over for his phone to check the time when a burst of color caught his eye. Hank flinched, expecting it to be a spider, but it was so much worse.

Connor had taken advantage of how tired he was and stuck many, many of his stickers to the ceiling, right above Hank's side of the bed where he knew Hank wasn't tall enough or cared enough to clean, normally. Fuck. He'd be waking up to this shit every morning. 

Connor was only pretending to be asleep. Hank hissing "son of a bitch" might as well have been a lullaby to him.

* * *

"We're back!" Hank kicked open the door, and Sumo bounded inside, almost knocking Connor down as he came to greet them. "Sumo has something for you."

"Oh?" Connor knelt down and Sumo dropped a very wet leaf into his hand. 

"He found a crunchy leaf and carried it home just for you." Hank hung up Sumo's leash, turning to inspect Sumo's treasure more closely. "Wouldn't even let me go near his mouth."

"Oh. How sweet. Thank you, Sumo," Connor crooned, and Sumo licked his face in response. 

"Did I miss anything?"

"No, not at all. The Jericho call went smoothly. No reports of any android crimes."

"Oh, good." Hank stretched, and Connor was delighted to see the sliver of Hank's stomach from under his old shirt. "Gonna go read for a bit. You staying out here?"

"Yeah. I want to watch the news report. Markus will be on TV soon."

"All right. I'm taking Sumo then. Sumo!" Sumo's head shot up and his tail began to wag fast enough to stir up some dust. "Bedroom!" Sumo obeyed and ran inside, and Connor watched them disappear down the hall together fondly.

Eventually Sumo got bored, as he always did, and began to wander around the house for another place to lay down. He chose the carpet right behind the couch, and Connor heard him slurp something into his mouth. He expected the crunch of his dog food after, but instead there was a crinkle.

"Sumo?" Sumo padded over to him when called, and stood there expectantly. "What are you eating?" He usually whined when he heard Connor using that tone, but he scooted his head further on Connor's lap, leaving a damp trail on his pant leg. "Spit it out. Open. Open." Connor gave Sumo's jaws a gentle squeeze, and Sumo wiggled in protest before relenting and letting the blue wad roll into Connor's hand.

"Hank!" Connor called out, "Stop feeding Sumo sticky notes!"

"It's fine! I trained him to do that! Why do you think he brought you a leaf today?”

Connor got up to stand in the doorway of Hank's bedroom, his hands on his hips. "Don’t you dare bring Sumo into this.”

“He’s my dog.”

“He’s  _ our _ dog.” 

Hank shrugged. “Don’t be mad you didn’t think of it first.” 

“Just...can we make a new rule? Sumo is off limits.” He was only a little miffed that Hank had taught Sumo how to do something and he hadn’t been included in the process. 

"Aye aye, captain." He peered at Connor over his glasses, and Connor hated and Connor hated how it was impossible for him to stay mad when Hank looked at him like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any thoughts, comments, mistakes that you caught are completely appreciated. Find me at keepleaves.tumblr.com or @keepleavesp2 on Twitter if you want to chat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the pop culture reference, part 2!

"Good morning, Connor!"

"Good morning, Hank." Connor rolled over to face Hank, but Hank was sitting up, talking to something cupped in his hand. "Hank?"

"What should we make for breakfast today, Connor?" Hank said, then pitched his voice much higher. "I don't know, Hank, why don't we have some thirium and eggs?" Hank's voice returned to normal. "That sounds good. How do you like your eggs, Connor?"

"What," Connor started, "is going on?" He leaned over enough to find one of his stickers nestled into the palm of Hank’s hand. 

"I like them crunchy!" Hank replied to himself as Connor, voice high pitched again.

"I don't talk like that!" Connor tried to take the sticker back from Hank, who jerked it away, climbing out of bed with the sticker still held out away from his face. 

"Hank, you're so handsome!" Sticker-Connor crooned, and Hank smiled at it. "Oh, stop it, you!"

Connor kicked off the covers and chased after them. "Hey!"

"You know, it's okay if we eat fast food today," Sticker-Connor said in its annoyingly high voice, "In fact, I think we should order a pizza for all of today's meals and stay inside! We can have greasy pizza sex!"

"Wow, Connor!" Hank said as himself, "That sounds like a great idea! Let's do that!"

"Wow. Okay. This is some kind of sick inversion of 'talk to the hand'." Connor sat on the counter, curious to see how this was going to play out.

"Oh, Sticker, sometimes I miss regular Connor," Hank said, sighing dramatically and placing a kiss on the sticker. "I miss him so much."

"Hank." It stung a little to hear that. "I'm right here," he said, a little desperately.

"Sometimes I can still hear his voice!"

And so the day went, with Hank only speaking to sticker Connor. Even when Connor asked him a question directly, he still only answered the sticker on his hand.

"Are you done yet?" Connor asked, deadpan as Hank ate dinner with his other self. 

Hank said nothing, only slid a sticky note over to Connor, who took it without taking his eyes off of Hank.

“I am done,” Hank said, finally addressing Connor directly, “if you’re ready to admit defeat.”

Oh, that was it. If Hank liked those stickers so much, he could have all of them.

* * *

Mornings were for thirium and contemplation. There was no need to hurry. It was their day off, and Connor knew Hank would want to spend it that way. Good. Connor took a sip as he mentally counted down when Hank would wake up. In three…two…one…

"There it is," Connor muttered, standing from his place at the table as he heard Hank scream.

"Connor!" There was a loud thudding of footsteps as Hank ran out.

Connor laughed. And then he laughed some more. This was it, his winning move. It was game over for Hank. "So, ready to admit defeat?"

"Connor!" Hank seemed more distressed, and Connor's laughter faded just a little bit. "How am I supposed to get these off?"

"They're not permanent!" Connor frowned, reaching out and yanking one off of Hank's shirt. "They come right off!"

"Yes, but," Hank pointed at his arms and legs, and Connor came to the realization of his problem as Hank said it. "My  _ hair. _ "

~

"Hank, I'm…really sorry," Connor started. He let go of the sticker he was peeling off. "We might have gotten a little carried away with this."

"It's mostly alright." Hank shrugged. "I mean, this would have been the thing that got me to accept defeat. It would have been funny if it wasn't for the waxing."

Connor bit back a laugh at his word choice, ripping off a sticker on Hank’s arm as he let out another yelp. He flipped it over to examine the back. "I don't know if it's a waxing exactly; some of these don't have any hair on them, and some of them only have one or two hairs on them."

"Yeah, but it's still pulling on the hair follicles and that shit hurts." Hank rubbed the sticker-free area, wincing. "I don't even know how we're gonna get them out of my hair."

"Let me try." Connor reached up, holding Hank's hair in a fist as he peeled off the sticker from each hair individually. "How was that?"

"Didn't hurt, but now we have seventy left."

"There's only twenty-five, Hank."

"It feels like seventy!"

Connor let go of his hair in favor of de-stickering the rest of his body. "You know…all your sticky notes. I still have most of them. I kept them all, because I thought they were cute. It was fun while it lasted. It's nice to get little notes, even if they were crude."

Hank laughed. "I didn't know you were so sentimental."

"It's nice to know I'm on your mind." Connor concentrated on peeling so he didn't have to look Hank in the eye.

Hank knew, though, and he pulled Connor's hand away from his arm and placed a kiss on his knuckles. "I love you."

"I love you too, Hank." Connor took the moment to rip off another sticker.

Hank jerked away with another yelp. He sighed, blowing some stickers off the bathroom countertop in the process. "It's gonna be a long day."

* * *

"I got you something." Hank pulled a box out of a bag he hadn't so carefully hidden away.

Connor sat up straighter on the couch, reaching out to accept it before peering inside. "A label maker?"

"Yeah, so, I know you had the stickers to begin with to label things that were yours. I got you this because it's not so goofy looking. But!" Hank cut off Connor as he opened his mouth, clearly excited. "We are setting some ground rules. First, you don't get to label anything that's older. Records, books, that sort of thing. Second, you don't get to put it on anything it won't peel off without permanent damage. That shit will leave residue on some things, and it'll peel off the surface on anything else. Third, I'd like you to use on ideally on anything that mostly belongs to you at the station, but I won't protest if you want to use it on some things here. Understood?"

"Got it." Connor's face lit up with the possibilities, and he immediately began punching in and printing labels. Hank nudged some that had fallen on the floor with his foot to read.

_ Hank's keys _

_ Connor's side of the closet _

_ Sexy drawer _

_ Scissors _

_ Ladle _

_ Spatula _

_ Sumo _

"Hey, wait, you can't label Sumo!" Sumo's came running at the mention of his name, and Connor placed the label gently on top of Sumo's head, who immediately fell over and rolled onto his stomach, demanding Connor pet him. 

"He likes it!"

"Oh, god, what have I unleashed in my household?" Hank shook his head, but he couldn't help but smile at Connor's enthusiasm.

* * *

"Hank, time to get up."

Hank stirred, only to be snapped out his sleep when Connor slapped something on his forehead, then slid out of bed and ran from the room giggling. 

"Connor!" Hank reached up to feel a slick label on his forehead. "Fuck." To be entirely fair, he should have anticipated this. He'd never specified that Connor couldn't stick anything on him. He peeled it off, curious to see what title he'd received.

_ Hank Anderson, Connor's boyfriend _

"Oh." How was he supposed to be mad at that? "Love you, too!" He called out through the door, sticking the label back on his face. He was going back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any thoughts, comments, mistakes that you caught are completely appreciated. Find me at keepleaves.tumblr.com or @keepleavesp2 on Twitter if you want to chat.


	6. Optional: Epilogue

"My name is Connor Anderson. I'm here to check out some parts."   


"Welcome back, Detective Anderson. It's good to see you again. Please go ahead."

~

_ Abandoned Warehouse, somewhere in Detroit _

He took his own damaged face plate off, taking the new one and pressing it to his own until it clicked into place.

_ Biocomponent #1016e, compatible with RK800 #313 248 317 - 60. Accept? _

Sixty tested out his facial features. Good as new. Finally. And as an extra component he'd ordered under Connor's credits…he pulled out the box containing his new, eight inch dick, scoffing at the engraving labeled  _ Property of Connor Anderson _ . "Nice try. But YOU CAN'T KNOW IT’S ME UNTIL YOU PULL MY PANTS DOWN AND CHECK WHO THIS DICK BELONGS TO, CONNOR."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely don't know how to explain that last picture

**Author's Note:**

> As always, any thoughts, comments, mistakes that you caught are completely appreciated. Find me at keepleaves.tumblr.com or @keepleavesp2 on Twitter if you want to chat.


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